Willowleaf Lane

by Thayne, RaeAnne

  Then had come that heated embrace that had led to her bedroom and that sudden, unexpectedly erotic climax that had shocked both of them...and her confession that she was a virgin—and all the reasons why, which could squarely be shoved onto his shoulders.

  He couldn’t believe she would even be willing to talk to him after how despicably he had treated her all those years ago. She had carried around that betrayal ever since. He still couldn’t fathom how he could have been so cruel. And for what? To look better in the eyes of a little pissant nuisance like Ronnie McCombs?

  It made him feel sick and ashamed. He sighed. What the hell could a guy do to make up for something like that? He didn’t have any idea; he only knew he wanted to try.

  What was it about her? She was undeniably lovely. The prettiness had always been there. He could see that now. That smile had always captivated him. He remembered now how much he used to love teasing it out of her at the café, and she had those blue, blue eyes that made a guy want to do anything for her.

  It was more than that. Charlotte Caine was just a good person. Kind, loving, sweet. If he ever doubted it, he only had to look at what had happened a few minutes ago—in the middle of a conversation about how he had been a jerk and broken her heart, she focused her attention outward and wanted to help his daughter.

  He felt small in comparison.

  He had spent most of his life being a selfish bastard. On some level, all professional athletes had to carry around a fairly healthy ego. Because of his screwed-up childhood, he had learned early to take care of himself by necessity. A mistake of a marriage had done nothing to change that.

  Charlotte made him want to be something else. Something better.

  He was going to have to figure out a way to make amends for the hurt he had caused her. How the hell was he going to do that? He was pretty certain relieving her of her virginity wouldn’t qualify. More’s the pity.

  He was too tired to figure it out tonight, he decided, and climbed out of his Range Rover. Inside the house, he was surprised to hear a faint murmur of voices and then canned laughter coming from the media room.

  Maybe the housekeeper had stayed up late to wait for him, though that would be a first.

  When he followed the sound, he found not the starchy Gretel but Peyton, sound asleep on the sofa. MTV played in the background, some kind of lame reality show, by the look of it. In the blue glow, his daughter looked small and delicate, almost frail, with her mother’s high cheekbones and slender features.

  A few years ago, he might have scooped her up into his arms and carried her to her bed but she would no doubt consider herself too old for that kind of thing. Instead, he sat on the edge of the sofa.

  “Hey,” he whispered.

  Her eyes flickered open and she looked at him, bleary-eyed and confused. For just an instant, she was his little girl again, the one who used to squeal with excitement after he would return from road trips and run to greet him with her arms out and her smile just about taking over her face.

  She blinked away sleep and became the all-prickly adolescent again. “What time is it?” she asked.

  He glanced at his watch. “Nearly one.”

  “I thought you were going to be in early.” She narrowed her gaze. “Did you go to a bar or something?”

  Though he had never been a drinker, Peyton was paranoid about that after Jade’s party-hardy example.

  “No. I stopped to visit an old friend, and we lost track of time.” That was the truth, as far as it went. Maybe not the whole truth but she didn’t need to know that.

  “How did it go with Gretel tonight?” he asked.

  “Fine. Boring. We streamed a really lame romantic comedy, and then she went to bed at like ten.”

  “She’s nice, though, isn’t she? You like her?”

  She drew her legs up, the sharp bones of her knees jutting through her drawstring pajama bottoms. “I’ll be thirteen in three weeks. I don’t need a babysitter. But yeah. She’s okay. She reminds me a little of Annie. We had her when I was like seven or eight, remember?”

  “Didn’t she have red hair?”

  “Yeah. She wore it in braids a lot. I used to call her Pippi Longstocking.”

  He smiled, his heart full of love for his child. He certainly had to make amends to Charlotte for one terrible mistake, but he had twelve years’ worth to make up for to Peyton.

  She yawned and he wanted to tell her to head to bed. On the other hand, there was something comfortable about sitting here in the dark talking with her. They should try it more often. Maybe they could try cooking something together once in a while, too.

  “How was the pizza?”

  She lifted a thin shoulder. “Okay. A little too greasy for me. Gretel had three pieces, so she must have liked it. There’s a ton left in the fridge if you’re hungry. I know you love leftover pizza.”

  It warmed him that she remembered that about him. “Yeah, I do. Maybe I’ll have it for breakfast. Meanwhile, you need to get to bed. I was going to carry you up but I didn’t think you would appreciate it.”

  “Good guess.”

  She rose and started padding in her big fluffy slippers toward the stairs. He followed along. “Charlotte told me you were going to a bead class this week. That should be fun. She’s taking you?”

  “Yeah. I asked her. She said she didn’t mind.”

  “Knowing Charlotte, she’s probably thrilled at the chance to help.”

  She smiled a little and headed for the stairs. With one foot on the bottom step, she turned back. “An old friend, huh? Is that what Charlotte is?” she asked, a knowing gleam in her eye.

  Unbelievably, his face suddenly felt hot. He didn’t quite know how to respond to this sort of teasing from his daughter but found he didn’t mind it.

  How would she feel if he started dating Charlotte? he wondered. Her mother had been gone a year and before that, Peyton must have known they hadn’t had any sort of marriage.

  “I’ve known Charlotte since she was younger than you are. I’d say that puts her squarely in the category of an old friend, wouldn’t you?”

  “I guess,” she answered. “But I don’t go visit my old friends at midnight.”

  He snorted and shook his head. “Go to bed, Peyton.”

  “I’m going. I’m going.”

  As she headed up the stairs, he had to face the truth. Charlotte was certainly an old friend. But she was rapidly becoming something much, much more.

  * * *

  “NOW THAT YOU’VE picked the beads you want to use for the first pair of earrings you’ll make, I’m going to teach you a few basics.”

  Charlotte watched Macy Bradford give a reassuring smile to the group of four girls around Peyton’s age at the worktable. “I know it can be scary at first but, I promise, it’s easy once you get the hang of it.”

  She went on to explain how to make a simple loop out of a headpin and Charlotte, sitting at another worktable nearby, beamed at Claire.

  “Listen to her. She’s a natural.”

  “I know, right?” Claire couldn’t have been more proud. “I should have thought of this a long time ago. Girls that age don’t want to sit and listen to an old lady like me tell them what looks cute, but from Macy or Taryn, it’s a completely different story.”

  “She’s doing great. They all look like they’re having a wonderful time.”

  Charlotte was still a little worried about Peyton. Though she had smiled a few times, she seemed pale and more quiet than usual, while the other girls had been very welcoming to her.

  “It was sweet of you guys to come and give her moral support,” Claire said to Katherine, Evie, Charlotte and her sister-in-law, Angie.

  “She doesn’t need our moral support.” Angie smiled. “She’s a natural.”

  “I’m no
t here for moral support anyway,” Charlotte insisted. “I’ve been desperate for new beaded hoop earrings and a necklace to go with the blouse I bought last week.”

  “I love those colors together,” Claire said.

  As she worked, Charlotte tried to shed her worry about Peyton. It really was relaxing to sit here working while she listened to her friends talk and the chatter of the girls next to them.

  “There are so many cool beads in here,” Peyton said at one point. “How do you ever pick the ones you want to use?”

  “That’s the hardest thing about working here.” Taryn Thorne, Evie’s stepdaughter, walked over to check on Macy’s class. “I can find something to make out of everything we have in the store.”

  Taryn was older than the girls in the beading class. She had just finished her senior year and was heading to college in the fall. Everybody loved Taryn. A few years earlier, she had survived a terrible accident that nearly killed her and had emerged from it with a strength and compassion amazing in one so young.

  The younger girls in Macy’s class probably just admired her because she was pretty and stylish and always sweet to everybody.

  “Look at that, Peyton. You did it,” Taryn exclaimed. “Your first pair of earrings!”

  “Awesome,” Peyton confirmed. “That was so easy. I want to do another pair.”

  Macy laughed. “Watch out. Now you’re hooked, just like the rest of us.”

  Macy and Peyton rose to pick out more bead combinations that might work for earrings. They had only walked a few steps when Peyton stopped in front of a glass display case near both worktables.

  “Wow. What a pretty dress,” Peyton stated.

  The crystals handsewn to the wedding dress caught the light and reflected it back around the room.

  “It is, isn’t it?” Claire said, a rueful sort of pride in her voice. “Too bad nobody has ever worn it.”

  “Why do you still have Gen Beaumont’s wedding dress hanging in your store?” Angie asked. “It’s been over a year since her wedding plans imploded, for heaven’s sake.”

  Claire sighed. “I’ve tried to give it back to her a dozen times, but she won’t take it. She claims she never wants to see the thing again. Laura wouldn’t take it, either. Anyway, none of the Beaumonts have paid me the final amount for the beadwork. Until they do, I’ll keep it on display here. It is some of my best work.”

  Charlotte fought down a laugh. Claire could be sweetly generous most of the time, but when it came to business, she could also be feisty and pragmatic.

  “That girl is going to end up in some serious trouble if she’s not careful,” Taryn said grimly. “Charlie tells me all kinds of stories about her. Apparently, she’s running wild in Europe, dating any playboy she can find, spending all kinds of money. I guess Mayor Beaumont has just about had enough. He’s ready to yank her back home.”

  “Watch out, Hope’s Crossing,” Katherine murmured.

  “How is Charlie these days?” Charlotte asked. “He used to ride his mountain bike to Sugar Rush all the time, but I haven’t seen him in a long time.”

  Taryn’s smile was soft and rather dreamy. Charlotte didn’t miss the worried look both her grandmother Katherine and her stepmother sent her way. “He’s good. Really great. We talked via Skype last night, as a matter of fact. He’s going to summer semester, trying to hurry through his generals. He likes UCLA a lot, though he misses the Rockies.”

  “What’s he studying?” Charlotte asked.

  “He wants to go into criminal law. He’s got two more years left of his undergrad.”

  “Criminal law? Really?”

  “His time in youth corrections really changed his life,” Taryn said. “He wants to make a difference.”

  Charlie Beaumont, Genevieve’s younger brother, had been driving the vehicle that crashed, injuring Taryn and killing another teen, Charlotte’s friend Maura’s daughter Layla. Charlie had spent eight months in juvenile detention for driving under the influence, a sentence many people in town still considered too lenient.

  “Hey, Taryn,” Macy called. “Can you help me show them how to make a beaded hoop? You have such a better eye for color than I do.”

  “Sure.” Taryn walked back over to the girls’ table with that slightly lopsided smile, one of the few lingering effects of the months and months of rehabilitation therapy she had endured.

  After she left and the attention of the younger class was fixed on Taryn, Claire turned to Charlotte. “How is Peyton settling in?” she asked in an undertone. “Do you think she’s enjoying the class?”

  “She’s really hard to read,” Charlotte answered, concerned a little at how pale Peyton still seemed. She wanted to ask if the girl felt ill but she had a feeling Peyton wouldn’t appreciate being the center of attention.

  “She’s a funny little thing,” Charlotte said. “My heart really breaks for her. She’s trying so hard to hate it here but I think it’s not working out as well as she would like.”

  “How about her dad?” Katherine asked. “How is Spencer settling in?”

  An image of her wild response to his kiss the other night flashed in her head, and she could feel her face heat. “Um, fine, I guess.”

  Why did every conversation around town seemed to circle back to him? A person might think nothing else of interest ever happened inside the city limits.

  “I hear Harry donated a bunch of money to A Warrior’s Hope,” Katherine said.

  “So I understand,” Charlotte answered.

  “The word is, Harry isn’t the only one putting up the big bucks. Mary Ella told me Harry’s pledge was dependent on Spencer matching the same amount.”

  Charlotte looked up, shocked. “Really?”

  “You didn’t know? Mary Ella said the only reason Harry is so willing to open his wallet is because Spence is so committed to A Warrior’s Hope. He doesn’t think it has a chance of failing.”

  Spence had said nothing of making a big donation to the organization on Saturday night. The colors of beads seemed to merge in front of her in a shimmery rainbow. Why hadn’t he mentioned it? Oh, it was difficult to protect her heart when he continued to sweep her legs out from under her like this.

  “He’s not quite the villain we all want to think, is he?” Angie asked.

  “No,” Charlotte answered softly, eyes burning with emotion. She looked back down at her beads, unable to bear the scrutiny of their gazes.

  When the chimes on the door rang out, she was grateful—an emotion that turned to surprise when she saw the beloved figure who walked in.

  “Pop!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

  Dermot gave a hearty smile. “I brought you all a bit of pie. We made too many blackberry and chocolate cream today and I was trying to think what to do with them when I remembered you had this class today. Thought you ladies might be able to help me get rid of it.”

  He turned his considerable Irish charm on the girls, who giggled. Charlotte was amused to see her father looked anywhere but at Katherine, who was concentrating quite fiercely on the intricate braided seed-bead necklace she was making.

  Charlotte didn’t understand why the two of them didn’t just get it over with and go on a date. Theirs had to be the slowest courtship in Colorado.

  She had to wonder how her mother and father had ever gotten together and managed to conceive seven children if Pop could be this shy and awkward around a woman he was interested in, but she found it endearingly sweet, too.

  “What an unexpected surprise,” Charlotte said with a grin. “I can’t imagine why you would think of us, completely out of the blue like that.”

  He gave a stern look, fully cognizant of the reason for her teasing. “If you don’t want them, I’ll take them back to the café.”

  “You will not,” Claire said. “Yo
u wouldn’t deny a pregnant woman, would you? I’ve had a craving for a piece of your blackberry pie for weeks. How did you know?”

  Dermot gave his charmer of a smile. “Just a guess, my dear. Would you like me to cut them now or just leave them for you when you’ve got a moment?”

  “Now works for me,” Claire said. “Macy, what about your group?”

  “We could all use a little break, I think,” Macy said.

  For the next few minutes, String Fever was busy with the sound of chatter as everyone filled their plates. Peyton didn’t take a piece, Charlotte noticed with concern, and wondered again if the girl was feeling ill.

  “I’ll have just a sliver of the blackberry,” Charlotte said to Dermot. “No whipped cream.”

  She had learned she could eat anything in moderation, as long as she didn’t overindulge. Another lesson of the past eighteen months was that she stuck to her new healthy eating efforts much better if she didn’t deprive herself of anything she really craved and Pop’s pie was close to the top of her list.

  “Mmm. Dermot. This is fantastic. How do you always get that crust so perfect every time?” Angie asked.

  He and Alex’s oldest sister talked for a few moments about high-quality ingredients and dough temperatures.

  When their conversation lapsed, Katherine finally spoke to Pop. “How is Dylan doing after his surgery in Denver?”

  He glanced at her, eyes wide. “How did you know about that?”

  She shrugged her elegant shoulders. “I bumped into him at the grocery store.”

  “And he told you he had a procedure?” Dermot looked shocked and Charlotte didn’t blame him. Dylan was notoriously closemouthed, even with his family.

  “He didn’t want to, but I can be...persuasive.”

  For the life of her, Charlotte couldn’t figure out why Katherine didn’t turn her skills of persuasion to convincing Pop they should take their relationship a step further.

  “I noticed he was favoring the prosthetic,” she went on. “He was trying to lift a big bag of dog food, and I stepped in to help him.”

  Oh, Charlotte would bet Dylan loved that, having the very elegant city council member—and senior citizen—help him with his dog food.